The Forget-Me-Not Ring
by ureshiitamago
Summary: A tentative one-shot about Raven Underwood's life with Harry. (If ya'll want, it will change to a fanfic.) Rated T for safety and possible tears near the end.
1. Chapter 1

Magic changed my life. Starting when I was a baby.

I was 2 when I first saw it, the wondrous impossibility of Magic. I remember the incident well. It was around midnight when it started, the lights blinking out one by one. I remember pulling myself to the edge of my crib and looking out the closed (and locked) window.

There was an old man there, though I didn't know he was old until I was old enough to know age differences. To my two year old eyes and mind, what I saw was 'wrinkly monkey'. There was something in his hand that would spark, and then a light would go off. I wondered if he was going to take the light from the stars too, but no. He stopped when there were no lights on in the street. I blinked at the sudden darkness and placed a small toddler hand on the window. What was Wrinkly Monkey doing?

He seemed to be talking to a cat. Now, I was too young at that point to understand that talking to cats wasn't a sign of sanity, but nevertheless, I let it slide.

It didn't hit me that anything that was happening was Magic, even when the cat turned into a woman. Wrinkly Cat. I placed my other toddler hand on the window. My breath steamed up the window, and on instinct, I wiped it away. When I did, there was a loud roaring sound, and a motorcycle descended from the sky. I was old enough to understand that things that sound like the motorbike don't fly. Magic. The impression of the word lit up my mind, illuminating numerous possibilities.

Magic. It didn't even seem unreal to me. Everything clicked into place at that moment in time. The reason why my bottle floated over to me when I was hungry. The reason why my toys would randomly change colors. Magic. In that moment, there was one thought that ran through my head as I watched a small little bundle being placed on the steps next door.

I have it.

"I have it," I said to Harry, the boy next door. I held out the ratty looking ball that had been tossed over the fence with no regard to who may be on the other side. The bespeckled boy smiled shyly and hesitantly reached for it. A thought came over me for a second, and I acted on it. Frowning in concentration, I stared hard at the ball, willing it to become more whole and less ratty. It shuddered in my palm, and then knit some areas that were falling apart back together. There was a faint gasp from Harry, and I shifted anxiously. This was it. Would there be rejection, or would there be a friendship. Heartbreak at 4 years old…I wasn't looking forward to it if it _did_ happen…

Harry beamed at me, and opened his mouth to speak.

"You too?"

"You too?" I asked, sitting on the edge of the playground with Harry. We both had skinned knees, but weren't going to the nurse. It was just a skinned knee. Harry nodded, and I was suddenly hit by the fact that a six year old shouldn't really be as skinny as he was.

"What time are you expected home?" I asked after a moment of silence. I kicked some stray pebbles and looked sideways at him through a curtain of dull red-brown hair.

"Six o'clock."

"Six o'clock!" I sang, whisking Harry away from Dudley and Petunia so we could walk to school together. "At six o'clock we walk to school together!" I announced loudly, grinning at Harry, who grinned back. He filled out a little in the last two years, a result of him coming over to my house right after school and 'liberating' food from the kitchen.

"Slow down!" Harry laughed, stumbling a little as I ran faster, eager to get away from Dudley and his mother. I grinned wider and slowed down for Harry until we were both walking, still hand in hand.

"Thank you, Raven," Harry said, nodding his head back to the Dursleys, who were well behind. I hugged him with one arm.

"Anything for you."

" _Anything for you_ ," It said on the 'anonymous' birthday card. I had slipped it into Harry's ratty bag on the way to school. Harry's eyes were wide as he stared at the card, and then the small wrapped box. Despite the fact that I had been giving him presents since we were four, he was still surprised whenever I have him one.

He gasped as he opened up the box. He stared at me with wider eyes, and then slowly reached into the box, pulling out a ring. (No, not like that…we're _nine_ , thank you very much)

"B-but this is _your_ ring!" He said, holding up the delicately woven strands that made the ring look like silver forget-me-not's wrapped around your finger.

"I gave it a 'magic touch' so that it would grow or shrink according to the size of your finger," I said, ignoring his statement. There was a reason I'd given it to him…

"W-why?" He knew. He knew that I would _never_ give up that ring, not unless something was going to happen.

"It's made so that only you can wear it, and the Dursleys can't see it…I wished really hard…" I tried to put it off as long as I could. Harry held up that ring and looked me right in the eye, vivid green to watery blue.

"Why," he asked, no, demanded. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and I collapsed into his arms, crying loudly.

"I'm leaving!"

"…I'm leaving…" I murmured. As was promised, the day after I turned 10, we were moving. My backpack was full, and there was a smaller bag in my hand. But this wasn't something that would be coming with me.

Harry stood before me, looking calm. But I knew him. Inside, he was a mess. I gulped back the growing lump in my throat, and thrust the bag in my hands at him. Harry took it hesitantly, and I noticed a sheen covering his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly. My parents called to me from the car.

"You…should go…" Harry mumbled, staring at the bag in his hands. I drew him into a hug, careful of the bag.

"That's your tenth birthday present," I choked out through my tears. "I'll definitely send something for your eleventh…"

The car made its way down the road, me in the back, face to the window, staring not at the house I had spent 10 years in, but the small figure that was standing in the driveway, slumped over, clutching a bag to his chest. I watched until he was out of sight.

"Harry…"

"Harry!" I cried, launching myself at the boy, who had scarcely grown at all from last I'd seen him, a little skinnier in fact. I probably chocked him with my grip, but I had let go a year ago, and this time, I wasn't letting him go. (This was while I was completely ignoring the other, brighter haired red-head who was in the same compartment)

"You remembered me?" Harry gasped, clutching me back tightly, as if afraid I'd disappear again. "After all this time?"

"Always*!" I said with a grin. "You silly! It's only been a year! Well, I say only but…" Harry laughed.

"I know what you mean," he chuckled, "it feels like it's been forever."

"So, do you want your eleventh birthday present or what?" I asked excitedly. Harry pulled away from me slightly, grinning like Christmas had some early.

"I do!"

"I do!" I shouted over the din. Professor McGonagall let off a few more curses, clearing the area for a moment.

"And do you, Harry Potter, take Raven Underwood to be your lawfully wedded wife?" She asked, a little calm now, though still keeping an eye out for more Death Eaters. Harry let off a curse at a Death Eater who had been regaining consciousness.

"I do!" he said, grinning at me over his shoulder. We were back to back, clutching each other's hand. Ron and Hermione were in much the same position, but they weren't getting hitched, just watching. They needed parental permission (consent and all that jazz), but ours were dead, so it was okay.

"You may kiss the bride!" McGonagall shouted as a new wave of Death Eaters appeared through the doorway. Harry and I drew ourselves into a deep kiss, ignoring the light show around us for a second.

"I love you," I said against Harry's lips.

"I know."

"I love you," croaked Harry, caressing my white hair as I lay in the large bed, wheezing my last breaths. It had been a good life, filled with cheerful laughter of children, and grandchildren, and eventually, great-grandchildren. Harry picked up my withered and thin left hand, kissing the forget-me-not ring that twined around my ring finger. I smiled at my husband, who was as old and grey as I was, who probably didn't have that long left to live either. 110 was a good age to die, I thought. I gently squeezed his hand back.

"I know."

 ***Muahahahaha! Yes, I used it! *evil grin* cry! Cry all the tears!**

 **Let me know if ya'll want the full story, or if you want this to stay a one-shot. Just letting you know, my other fanfic, ghostly crewmate, takes precedence.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ureshiitamago: There was someone who expressed interest, so here it is!**

"My interest in the boy next door started when I was reeeaaally young," A wrinkled old lady told several young children, rocking back and forth in her rocking chair and staring at the ornate ceiling above her. The children, two with fire-red hair and one with black hair, leaned forward eagerly, their eyes—one set blue, two sets green—sparkling.

"Who was the boy next door, Nonna?" the only girl—black hair, blue eyes—asked before pushing up the glasses which were threatening to fall down her face. The old lady smiled, and played with her wedding ring, which looked like forget-me-nots, treaded together around her finger.

"Why, he was your Nonno of course, poppet," An old man said cheerily as he hobbled through the double doors into the large library. The only large and ornate room in the house. The three children immediately were shouting questions at the old couple, who shared looks of amusement, remembering a time when _their_ children, and then their children's-children had asked the same questions. Now, it seemed as though it was their great-grandchildren's turn to ask for their story. The old man's green eyes twinkled merrily, and he slowly sat down on a rocking chair that was placed next to his wife's, and slowly, he started rocking.

"I believe your Nonna is going to tell the story," The old man said, smiling the old woman, whose blue eyes widened before narrowing at her husband.

"I told the story last time," she reminded him. The old man pouted.

"But you tell it better, Raven."

"Harry…"

"Pleeeeaaaasssee tell us the story, Nonna?" One of the red haired boys asked, clasping his hands together. The other boy nodded seriously.

"Yes, Nonno doesn't tell it well enough," his voice was grave, like someone had died. Raven laughed, blue eyes twinkling.

"That sounds like something my madre, Bianca Colombo, would say," she said.

"Bianca was a force of nature," said Harry, shaking his head. "I deeply regret her passing."

"It wasn't something that either of us could have stopped," Raven countered with a dismissing wave of her hand. "Mamma knew what she was doing."

"What happened?" The raven haired girl asked eagerly. Harry turned to his wife, who sighed in reluctance.

"Fine," she said, "but only this time." And so, she began.


	3. Chapter 3

I tottered down the steps of my house, heading towards some rose bushes that smelled nice, and therefore I wanted to touch. I was three, and I had this thing where if something smelled nice, I automatically wanted to touch it, like my madre's hair. Her hair smelled like these strange blood red plants that were growing next to the white picket fence.

It's actually shocking that I didn't kill myself when I did get to the bushes, because they were full of thorns. Instead, somehow I found myself on the other side of the bushes next to the fence, unscathed. The reason? Crying.

I placed a chubby hand on the fence where I heard it. Mamma had said to me that crying showed you were sad, and that was a not-so-good thing. This _sounded_ like crying, so it wasn't-so-good. When _I_ cried, Mamma hummed a song to me.

So I hummed.

It was a natural thing, imitating what my mamma would do in a similar situation. Gradually, as I hummed the song over and over again, the crying faded away, and there were only occasional hiccups from the other side of the white picket fence.

Finally, I noticed the shouts that were coming from my house. They were shouting my name over and over. I knew it was time to go, so I decided to say something to the hiccupping fence.

"Don' cry," I said clearly before somehow tottering back to the house, again unscathed by the roses.


End file.
